


how partners are made

by paperlighthouse



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Human Kuroo Tetsurou, Implied Bullying, M/M, Mild Blood, Nonverbal Communication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Song Lyrics, Supernatural Elements, Time Skips, Vampire Kozume Kenma, Vampires, Wholesome Parents, cw: food, kids to adults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperlighthouse/pseuds/paperlighthouse
Summary: They’re pushed together by their parents like the coast and the shore, meeting in a messy, itchy puddle, imprints on both their knees. Kenma cries until his mother bends down and picks him, bouncing him on her hip and wiping his cheeks. Kuroo stands curious, looking up at the other boy with unblinking eyes.“Kenma is a little shy. Can you be patient with him?”Kenma sniffles his snot back into his throat. He peers down at him with yellow eyes.“I can.”Alternatively, Kenma and Kuroo grow up.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Flight

**Author's Note:**

> before we begin, this is my first anime fic so please be kind. second, i haven't read the manga & am going off the anime plus some additional google research. meaning, families and other minor characters are going to be based off my own head-canons. defintions are from the [ merriam-webster dictionary](https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/flight). lastly, school system is vague bc i am a hopeless american.
> 
> songs are suggested listens for that chapter, but aren't needed. i've included links to mvs (if available) and lyrics at the beginning of each chapter. here's the playlist for this fic (i'll be adding to it with each chapter and in between) - [ spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0DVx5sy8nFTsuoTcJf6lbI)
> 
> big thanks to my beta sofia ([ her ao3 plug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirimikaze)). thank you for your support and your kindness.
> 
> please enjoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma starts elementary that fall and Kuroo shows him the ropes: the best place to sit during recess, the slide that gets too hot and static-y, which way the water faucets turn, the steep stairs next to the garden. Kenma follows along like a shadow, never seeking any more than what he is shown and hiding behind Kuroo’s slightly larger height when a teacher or student greets them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
>  **flight**   
>  _   
>  _1) an act or instance of passing through the air by the use of wings_   
>  _2) a passing through the air or through space outside the earth's atmosphere_   
>  _3) a group of similar beings or objects flying through the air together_   
>  _4) a brilliant, imaginative, or unrestrained exercise or display_   
>  _5) a continuous series of stairs from one landing or floor to another_

**_FLIGHT (I)_ **

_**"** You’re vulnerable, you're vulnerable_

_You are not a robot_

_You’re loveable, so loveable_

_But you're just trouble”_

_["I Am Not A Robot”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_oMD6-6q5Y)_[ by MARINA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_oMD6-6q5Y) / [_lyrics_](https://genius.com/Marina-i-am-not-a-robot-lyrics)

✧

They’re pushed together by their parents like the coast and the shore, meeting in a messy, itchy puddle, imprints on both their knees. Kenma cries until his mother bends down and picks him, bouncing him on her hip and wiping his cheeks. Kuroo stands curious, looking up at the other boy with unblinking eyes. The sun is dangling over the neighborhood and the streets are hot.

“Sorry, Tetsurou-kun,” Ms. Kozume says with a smile. “Kenma is a little shy. Can you be patient with him?”

Kuroo knows that word. He knows how it sounds when it's a reward and how it sounds on his teachers mouth. Kenma whimpers when they meet eyes and hides his face in his mother’s shoulder.

“I can.”

The adults stare down with parted lips. Kuroo continues looking up.

Kenma sniffles his snot back into his throat. He peers down at him with yellow eyes.

Kuroo gives his biggest smile. “And then we can be friends.” 

Kenma starts elementary that fall and Kuroo shows him the ropes: the best place to sit during recess, the slide that gets too hot and static-y, which way the water faucets turn, the steep stairs next to the garden. Kenma follows along like a shadow, never seeking any more than what he is shown and hiding behind Kuroo’s slightly larger height when a teacher or student greets them.

After, they wind up by their parents. Kenma sticks to his father’s legs, hand twisting into his bland colored pants. Kenma ’s mother passes him a drink pouch which he takes and punctures with the straw. Kuroo’s mom hands him a water bottle. They chat over them. Kuroo tugs his mom’s hand and passes back the half empty bottle.

They walk home side by side. The Kozume family lives in a house with a herb garden in the front. A simple wooden swing hangs from the big tree sheltering their roof. Kuroo stares through the gate with curious eyes. Kenma slides between the iron barrier and waits by the door. Kuroo waves and Kenma looks down at his feet.

Kuroo’s mom holds his hand as they walk past a couple more houses. He unlatches the gate and the pigeons on the telephone wire coo.

“Tetsurou,” His mom unlocks the door. They pull off their shoes. Kuroo reaches up and taps on the hallway light. “Kenma-kun doesn’t have many friends.” She hangs her purse on the wall hook. “He might not know how to be friends with someone.”

She bends down to a squat and takes both of his hands in one of her own. “Can you wait a little longer for Kenma to open up?”

“He is.”

She pauses and pats down her son’s hair. “Hmmm?”

“Today we looked at each other. And he followed me.” His mother adjusts the hem of his shirt over his shoulders and neck with gentle fingers. “Momma?” She stands.

“Are you hungry? What do you want tonight; let’s make it together.”

“Udon!”

“Udon?! What meat should we put in it?!”

“Hmmmm, chicken!”

The first grade classroom has a lot of sun. The window seats look out over the street and where kids get picked up by their parents. Kenma sits in the last seat of that row. Kuroo visits him on snack break and the first graders stare at him.

Kuroo swaps Kenma’s grapes with his gram crackers. Kuroo has come to know Kenma despises vegetables and the only fruit he likes are melons and strawberries. Kuroo promises to buy him a watermelon and a basket of strawberries next year when it is summer again. Kenma nods and pushes own his napkin towards him from across the table.

“Why are you always with Kozume-san?”

Kuroo slaps the rubber ball back across the pavement. His second grade friend returns it.

“We're friends.”

Kuroo comes down on the ball with both his fists. It launches into the sky. His friends yelps and chases after it.

“Does he _really_ talk to you?”

His friend squeezes the ball. He throws it down and Kuroo catches it.

“Sometimes, but not a lot.”

Kuroo holds the ball up and it blocks out the sun. He stops squinting.

Kuroo discovers volleyball when his mother is flipping through TV channels. He yells and they both jump. She leaves it on while she cooks them both lunch. The steady chopping hits the cutting board with rhythm. The boy sits on the carpet, probably too close to the screen, and completely raptured. The woman in the kitchen scrapes the food into a frying pan and drizzles oil over it. She lights the gas stove and presses her hip into the counter. The pound of a hand smacking down on something, the shrill call of a whistle, and the dull beat of cheers drown out the silence in the house. Fill the halls with noise and energy. She curses under her breath and stirs the potatoes, vegetables, and meat.

By the time they sit down, Kuroo has already asked for “one of those balls” three times. 

Kuroo is told Kenma is a supernatural over a picnic playmate.

It goes something like this:

“Kenma, are you hungry?” Kenma’s mother crouches next to them and passes a small bagged drink to her son. The boy accepts it with a pointed pout and stabs his straw into the top. Kuroo continues watching him play with his DS one handed. He takes over one side with Kenma’s reluctance.

“Can I try?”

Kenma shakes his head swiftly, the surest reaction Kuroo has seen since meeting him, drink hanging from his mouth. “It’s not good for you.”

“Why? Is it soda?” Kuroo watches Kenma pet a little ginger cat on the screen. His mom doesn’t let him drink soda often.

“No, blood.” The cat flops over onto its back, and Kenma rubs its tummy.

Kuroo blinks and looks down at his sandwich. The limp slice of cheese is turning shiny from the sun. “Like a game?”

“No, I’m a vampire.”

Kuroo knows supernaturals exist. One of the girls in his class is part mermaid and she talks to their class pet fish named Bucky . His second grade teacher is a faerie and lets her students braid her long hair, and draw on their desks in whiteboard markers when they are extra good. “That’s cool! I wish I was a vampire.”

Kenma’s face sours. “You have to drink blood though. And blood is kinda stinky.”

“But you have super powers!”

Kenma looks up and stares off at the trees. He says, “No. We don’t anymore cause of evo- ebah- evo-“ He scrunches his face. He stands and Kuroo follows behind him. They walk up to their mothers who are sitting at a picnic table. Kenma tugs at his mother’s sleeve.

“What is it?” He climbs onto the table’s seat and tucks himself into her side. Kuroo does the same with his mom.

“What is that word that means the reason we aren’t super strong anymore?”

Kenma’s mother wraps an arm around his waist. “Evolution?” Kenma nods and goes back to playing on his DS. “Oh, were you guys talking about supernaturals?”

Kuroo pipes up, “Yeah! Ken-chan says blood smells ‘stinky.’”

Their moms laugh. “Well, blood is kinda stinky. But baby vampires have to drink it so they can grow big and strong. Ken-chan can move onto strictly red meats when he gets a little older.”

“Not a baby,” Kenma mumbles with a straw in his mouth.

“So you can’t fly? Or lift cars?” Kuroo asks mournfully.

Kenma’s mother says something and his mom laugh. “Sadly not. Do you know what ‘evolution’ means, Kuroo?” It sounds like a Pokémon. He shakes his head. “It means to change over time to survive. Lots of supernaturals had to evolve so they could be happy.”

“So vampires stopped flying to be happy? What if they liked flying? I would like to fly.”

“I’m sure there were vampires who loved flying, but…” She looks up then back down at him. “They had to do some things they didn’t want so they could be happy. Like how Kenma has to drink blood even if it’s stinky.”

“And you have to eat all your cauliflower.” Kuroo’s mom pinches his cheek. Cauliflower _is_ icky, but his mom told him it made his body strong so he could play longer. And he trusts his mom.

“I think I get it.”

Kenma’s mother smiles. “Good. And!” She waggles her fingers, “There are things that supernaturals sometimes still have. Some of them are on the inside and are invisible, others are on the outside, like our family’s yellow eyes.

She pulls her black hair out of her face and opens her eyes wide. Kuroo leans over the table. Kenma’s mom’s eyes are yellow too. They are wider than his or his human classmates, and shaped a bit more like a square than an oval or circle. There was also a black, slit-like slash down the middle

“Kozume-san! You have eyes like a snake!” Kenma jumps in surprise.

She laughed and tickled his sides while pretend hissing.

_Volleyballs are firmer than they look_ , is the first thing Kuroo thinks when he has one in his hands. He traces the grooves with a finger, following the sloping lines and how they run against one another. He holds the ball out at arm’s length and it falls off the tips of his fingers. “AH!” He falls after it.

His mother apologizes to their grumpy neighbor when his ball jumps over her fence and bumps into her flowers. Kuroo repeats the apology, but looks down at the brown smudge in the white. That night he holds the ball over his head. The moon glows off the white and the walls. Kuroo brings it down and sniffs it.

Kenma takes one look at the volleyball and tries to break down the hall. Kuroo slides in front of the bathroom door, narrowly missing slamming his shoulder into the frame. The younger boy glares up at him, Kuroo has learned he’s not trying to look sad.

“You won’t stop asking until I say yes, will you?” Kuroo’s lips stretch as he smiles half hopeful, half sure. Kenma tucks his hair behind both ears then sighs. He trudges moodily down the hall with a murmured, “Let me charge my DS.”

Kuroo bounces on his toes. He pumps his arms in the air and the ball hits the floor with soft pats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment! i would love to know your reactions and feelings. i reply to comments too :)
> 
> more installments coming soon!


	2. Fawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo shows Kenma around their middle school. The volleyball club room lockers and how if you hit the corner of them hard enough they spring open, the secret sundial behind the giant oak tree, Kenma’s classrooms and the fastest way between them, Kuroo’s homeroom classroom and the window where he will be able to see his seat, and the boys bathroom no one uses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
>  **fawn**   
>  _   
>  _1) a young deer_   
>  _2) to court favor by a cringing or flattering manner_   
>  _3) to show affection — used especially of a dog_

**_FAWN (II)_ **

_**“** No one ever says all the love you give might not be enough_

_Broke my heart in two a couple times_

_Before it hurt too much **”**_

_“[almost home” ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-D9ME8z9KeE)_[by mxmtoon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-D9ME8z9KeE) / [lyrics](https://genius.com/Mxmtoon-almost-home-lyrics)

✧

“Do we have to?” Kenma complains as he drudges after Kuroo. The older boy was finally, Kuroo’s words, in the middle school volleyball team and wanted to practice every day. Kenma toys with the egg shaped Tamagotchi in his pocket. He shakes his head and his bangs cover the streaking, bright light reflecting off the river. He takes a deep breath.

Kuroo’s hand slaps down on his arm with a solid slap. He peers at his palm and grins at the black streak. Kenma looks down at the small bite of his watermelon. He forces a swallow.

The Kozume family surprises Kuroo with a volleyball net on his birthday. The three of them walked the isles that smelled like new sneakers and classrooms, held Kenma up so he could see the laminated labels, and point to a plain white net on the top shelf.

Kenma’s never wrapped a gift before and the scotch tape ends up around his ankle by the end of the night. The terrifying sound of ripping it off his leg is almost worth Kuroo’s eyes lighting up.

“I’m going to be a spiker.”

Kenma looks at him. He looks down at the volleyball in his hands.

“And you’ll be my setter.”

Kenma looks at Kuroo.

Kenma looks down at the corner of his paper spotted with small, scribbled, doodles. The bell rings for class to change and he turns his quiz in to the front of the class. Later, as his fifth grade teacher half-grades, half-watches a new drama airing, he marks a test with a red10 next to a lumpy drawn ball.

Kenma’s father sits down next to him on his bed. “Kenma?”

Kenma’s curled form moves under his blankets and a small voice cries from under it.

“Your mom said you were sick…”

Kenma lifts the comforter around his head.

Kuroo stands in the doorway to his room. Kenma looks at his hip and sees it’s empty. He looks at his hands and sees a tray with a steaming bowl. He grunts a cough and burrows back under his sheets.

“Kenma~” The tray plunks on the bedside table. Kenma scrabbles for his sheets as Kuroo abruptly throws his body on the bed. “Kenma?”

Kenma blinks and his nose wrinkles as his eyelashes brush the blankets.

Kuroo’s fingers jab into his back once then disappear. “Kenma, you have to eat. You don’t want to get sicker, right?” They poke, then back away. Kenma yawns. His eyes fly open as his comforters are ripped off his body.

Kuroo stands on his mattress, blankets held in a ball over his head. “Kuro,” Kenma says weakly.

Kuroo tucks the blankets under his butt like a stuffed, crumbling egg. “If you eat I’ll give them back.” Kenma glares at him, then the blankets, then his lap. He shivers. He looks over at the bowl of hot, watered down blood and meat stew.

Kenma sits up and sets the tray on his knees. Kuroo smiles with his head in his hands, hands on his knees. Kenma ladles a spoonful of broth and blows. After he swallows he says, “You look like a chicken.” 

Kuroo laughs loudly and squawks.

A woman and a man listen from outside the door as their neighbor’s boy excitedly explains what he witnessed on TV. They smile at the scratching of a pen on a pad, the tinking of a spoon hitting the bottom of a bowl, the patting of feet dashing back and forth over a small space. They hurry away when the feet get too close.

The phone rings a half hour later and some familiar words are exchanged. The first bedroom door creaks open and a man smiles at the two lumps on the bed, one starfished over the covers, mouth hanging open, the other a roll of blankets and mussed hair peeking out the top. The door closes softly.

His elementary graduation is loud. All of the parents are packed into the classroom, cameras flashing, smiles grinning. The students squirm around Kenma and he looks down at the tips of his shoes.

“Do you want ice cream?” His parents walk on either side of him on the sidewalk. The setting sun stretches their shadows into slim arrows.

Kenma yawns, “No.”

Kuroo waits by their door with his mom. Kenma look down at the wrapped, sphere shaped gift in his hands, then looks up at the apple pie in Kuroo’s mom’s hands. He walks half a step in front of his parents to meet the family.

The apple pie is gone in a half an hour. And the afternoon stretches with glasses of iced tea, whipped cream smiles, bandages over skinned knees, and the wistful strum of an acoustic band through the radio. Kuroo says they have to welcome the volleyball, so they boys pass between them overhead. When the Kuroo family leaves, Kenma nudges the ball with his foot into the bottom of his closet. It remains there, untouched, for two years.

Kuroo shows Kenma around their middle school. The volleyball club room lockers and how if you hit the corner of them hard enough they spring open, the secret sundial behind the giant oak tree, Kenma’s classrooms and the fastest way between them, Kuroo’s homeroom classroom and the window where he will be able to see his seat, and the boys bathroom no one uses.

Lastly, Kuroo shows him the gym. He sweeps his arms up high and wide and looks up through the metal ceiling beams. Kenma hugs his arms around his chest and glances over his shoulder.

“Hey.” Kuroo sits in the seat in front of Kenma.

Kenma nods minutely with a hum. He jabs the “JUMP” button on his controller and the ninja on screen kicks. He’s almost at a checkpoint. Kuroo opens the lid of his lunch. He picks at his food, glancing up at his friend every other second. Kenma tries to focus. Kuroo stops eating and sits back in his chair.

Kenma watches as his avatar is stabbed through the gut and falls to his knees. Kenma purses his lips. He looks up.

“Why did you skip practice?” Kuroo asks, voice and eyes even.

“I didn’t want to go.” Kenma says, voice even and dim.

_(“Who is that? An upperclassman?”_

_“I don’t know. I think he-“)_

Kuroo scoots forward so his knees knock against Kenma’s. “Why?”

Kenma fidgets in his seat. “I don’t know anyone there.” His eyes swaying across his desk. “And I don’t know how to play.”

“You won’t unless you play.”

Kenma’s fingers pause on the shell of the device.

“You know as much as the first years do. Maybe more because of me,” Kuroo says with an asymmetrical grin. He tucks his foot up on the seat and picks up his fork. He skewers a garden tomato and chomps on it. “Have you eaten?”

Kenma wrinkles his nose. He confirms the daunting, neon red “TRY AGAIN?”

“No.” The ninja respawns.

Kuroo makes some noises through a mouthful of food. He wipes his mouth on the inside of his shirt and swallows. “You need to. Here.” He offers a cut of meat from the Tupperware. He waves it over Kenma’s nose. “Kenma!”

The vampire boy makes a disgruntled whine when the human boy pulls the game out of his hands. Kenma glares through his bangs.

Kuroo laughs. “Here,” his voice quieter than before.

Kenma wraps his small hand around the utensil and pulls the bite off with his front teeth. The tender meat falls apart without the use of his fangs and he swallows.

_(“I didn’t know vampires ate real food.”_

_“Be quiet!”)_

Kenma lowers his head to the desk. His yellow eyes stare at the wall. Something prods his mouth and he looks up. Kuroo looks down at him and shakes the device in his face with a smile. Kenma sighs and takes a bite of the sandwich.

“This is Kenma. He’s a first year and is going to set for us.”

The middle schoolers call out greetings and their coach wanders over and introduces himself. Kuroo stands next to Kenma, one shoulder over the other’s. The coach’s eyes flit between them and he smiles politely.

Kuroo walks him around the gym, hand on the bottom of Kenma’s shirt, pulling it like a leash. Curious eyes follow the pair, watching in confusion as they shuffle and bicker till they walk a full circle of the space.

A whistle breaks the atmosphere and there’s a thunder of sneakers on the floor. All the boys look up at their instructor expectantly, except for one whose eyes stick to the door behind them.

Middle school sharpens curiosity into judgement. Months pass and the first years settle into the new pace of gossip before class, unapologetic bumps in the hall, and shrieking on bike rides home.

Kuroo goes through a growth spurt and him and his mom have to buy him new shoes. The mom and son drop off a bag of hand-me-down clothes.

The old shoes hang loosely off of Kenma’s ankles. Kenma unties them with a hurried huff and throws them across the room. They collect dust with the volleyball.

It’s raining. Kenma traces the wet drops clumping and dashing into each other with his eyes. The buzz of a melodramatic indie singer fills the empty space spring rain has brought. Kuroo seems to have inherited his mom’s taste in music. The heavy looking clouds roll across the sky like a river.

“Kenma.”

Kenma blows a raspberry.

Kuroo snorts. “You’re almost done, just a couple more problems.”

The study guide in front of Kenma is full of his chicken scratch handwriting, Kuroo’s commanding pen marks, and streaks of bright highlighter. Kenma scribbles on the bottom of the page.

The lights flicker before the power goes out. There’s a moment of silence before Kuroo impersonates a thunderous, villain-esque voice, and the two burst into giggles and snickers. Kenma’s father calls through the house and appears with an armful of lit candles. He sets a couple of the thick pillar candles on the table, and disappears down the hallway towards the toilet.

Kenma moves the paper closer to the dim lights. “Woah!” Kenma jolts at the sudden hands cupping his cheeks. Kuroo draws closer with drawn brows. He lets go after Kenma struggles a bit more. “Sorry. The candles make your eyes look like they're glowing.”

Kenma rubs his pink cheeks with the backs of his hands. He whispers something, but it’s swallowed by the sound of steadily pouring rain.

“I’m the one helping you not fail your classes, you shouldn’t be calling me an idiot.”

Kenma tucks his hair behind his ears as he rolls his eyes. He squints at his paper and tries to solve the next algebra problem.

The scratch of lead on paper, the branches creaking outside, and the quiet humming from Kuroo replaces the sound of the radio.

“HERE!”

Kenma jolts, arms outstretched. The ball falls and hits the bridge of his nose. The boy blinks back the tears welling up. The small team on the other side of the net rejoices in a chorus of “lucky!”s.

His clubmate darts around him worriedly. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just-”

Kenma holds his hand up, palm out. The kid backs off with a clumsy mumble. A confident and relaxed voice takes over the gap in conversation, there’s a couple smacks of hands before the other half of the club serves. The ball hits the net and pats against the glossy floor.

“Lucky!”s titter on Kenma’s side of the net. The vampire boy rubs his red nose and half-heartedly crouches to receive.

Kuroo finishes his second year. Kenma finishes his first.

It’s summer and they eat apple pie and play volleyball. They all sit in the shade of the maple tree with the beat up radio.

Kuroo’s shirt is smudged with both vanilla ice cream and dirt, his hair flat against his hair with sweat, his eyes bright. “Toss for me?”

Kenma pushes his finished plate across the metal garden table and sets his DS on the empty space.

His father reminds him to tie his shoe with a raised voice.

Kuroo waits, spinning his ball, discolored and full of scribbles. The sun makes his eyes gleam. Kenma stands.

“Where are you going for high school?”

Kuroo looks up with raised brows. He flips through the pages of a Shonen Jump volume. “Nekoma.”

The uniform is stiff. This is apparent because Kuroo shimmying every which way with a very serious look on his face. Though stiff, and ironed to the T, the pants are still folded over his ankle and the shirt hangs off his shoulders slightly, Kuroo’s going through another growth spurt.

Kuroo’s face pinkens as he holds up a piece, a knitted sweater vest. Kenma “pfft”s.

“Just wait, Kenma,” Kuroo ducks into the fuzzy disgrace of a uniform, “You’ll be having to wear one of these this time next year.”

“Okay, grandma’s boy.”

“OI!”

There’s a week left till school starts back up. They’re sitting on the floor of Kuroo’s family room. Kuroo's eyes latched on a recorded game, in his lap a notebook flipped open to a blank page. Chunky headphones rest over Kenma's ears.

"Hey. Hey." A finger pokes Kenma's shoulder.

"Hm." Kenma selects the "SAVE" option. 

Kuroo shifts to face the other boy. Kenma rests his game on his lap. 

“Keep...keep playing volleyball."

Through the TV speakers, the sound of the ball smacking down is followed by cheers. It's an old box TV, with wavering static, and a tin voice. 

His fingers are white around his pencil. His shoulders drawn up. His eyes rest on Kenma's.

Kenma's eyes look to the floor. A referee's whistle blows.

He fidgets a button down to select his saved file. 

“Okay.”

Kenma stands on the corner and stares down the stretch of the street. Someone in his class walks on the opposite side of the street heading towards their school. A humid breeze blows and dust is kicked into the air. Dandelions grow out of the cracks in the street.

He clutches the strap of his bag. He angles his body and steps into the crossroad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: i changed the work title a bit and adjusted the playlist titles.
> 
> comments are always welcome :)
> 
> p.s. i read A LOT of fic and have most of them publicly bookmarked. you can browse by fandom if you want any hq!! fic recommendations :)

**Author's Note:**

> fan art, inspired stories, and translations are welcome!! if you post here on ao3 go ahead and put my fic under "inspired by.." so i can see it. my twitter is [ @lunagoogie](https://twitter.com/lunagoogie) if want to tag me in fanart or DM your thoughts on this story. im also on tumblr [ @kootea](https://kootea.tumblr.com).
> 
> DO NOT COPY TO ANOTHER CITE
> 
> retweet [ this](https://twitter.com/lunagoogie/status/1264056781887516672) or reblog [ this](https://kootea.tumblr.com/post/618879551898042368/the-making-of-partners-kuroken) to help get this fic out there


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